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<title>What Is That On Your Forehead!? by corpseatthecarnival</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034241">What Is That On Your Forehead!?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/corpseatthecarnival/pseuds/corpseatthecarnival'>corpseatthecarnival</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Best Friends, Hangover, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Swearing, Tattoos, Underage Drinking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:54:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/corpseatthecarnival/pseuds/corpseatthecarnival</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>People make bad decisions when they're drunk, but usually, these bad decisions don't end up leading you to your soulmate. More importantly, how would he explain this to his dad?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clyde Donovan/Craig Tucker, Mentioned Clyde Donovan/Bebe Stevens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Waking Up Beside Noone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Aahhhh this is my first fic ever please go light on me in the comments! I've always been a lurker but never really got to writing my own, but I was feeling inspired today. :)<br/>Also, sorry its so short</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>How would he explain </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>to his dad?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde dragged himself out of his bed, nearly falling over himself. His head pounded violently against his skull. He felt his stomach churn, threatening to come up, but he swallowed it down. </span>
  <span>Clyde was no stranger to hangovers; being the wide receiver of your school's widely recognized football team pretty much got you into any party you wanted to go to. But normally at these parties, he didn't get hammered. And he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>hammered.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the pulsating in his frontal lobe, he attempted to replay the previous night's events. Through the thick fog of a drunken stupor, he hazily remembered stumbling over Craig, piling into the backseat of a beat-up taxi together. He remembered the cold leather of the chair sticking to his clammy skin, reclining back and bursting into giggles when the burly man's fingers brushed his forehead. He remembered sucking in a breath before the sharp needle collided with his skin, and...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's all he remembered. He had no memory of actually getting the tattoo. Maybe he'd passed out on the chair, or started drunkenly blubbering? Maybe Craig had taken him home? Maybe? Hopefully?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed the troubling thought out of his mind. He had plans with Bebe in an hour, and he needed to get ready. He sauntered to the bathroom and groggily flipped the switch, shrinking into himself at the unexpected brightness. It didn't do any favors for his stabbing migraine. After adjusting to the blinding light, he blinked a few times as he glanced at himself in the mirror. He reached for the comb before stealing another glance at his handsome self. But then, he saw it. He reeled in a mix of horror and shock. On his forehead was plastered in thick black letters, </span>
  <strong>
    <span>CRAIG</span>
  </strong>
  <span>. He gulped, trying to collect his thoughts. Okay, there was no reason he'd get that tattoo if Craig hadn't agreed to get a matching one. Then they could be embarrassed together! Craig would find a way to make a joke of it like he did with everything. Everything would be okay. What a relief!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked his comb back up, feeling the stress slip off his body. He brushed his hair to the front in a futile attempt to cover the bold letters spanning across his forehead. When this proved fruitless, he decided Bebe would just have to wait.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A phone call and a few fake coughs later, Clyde Donovan was on his way to Craig's house to clear up this whole issue. He rehearsed in his head what he would say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nice hat, Craig. It'd look better off your head.</span>
  </em>
  <span> No. Too salacious. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good morning, let me see your forehead. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Too blunt! He reared the corner to the familiar cookie-cutter suburban home, not hesitating to repeatedly slam his palm against the doorbell. He was almost immediately greeted by Craig's little sister, who was about to cheerily welcome him into their home, but Clyde wasn't in the mood for the offensive saccharine scent flooding his nostrils, so he shoved past her immediately, making a beeline for Craig's room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bust through the door and was greeted with the all-too-familiar sight of his best friend sprawled out on the bed, eyes fixed on his guinea pig, which was scrambling around on top of his torso. Clyde felt his cheeks flush- it was hot in there. Craig glanced at Clyde and greeted him casually with a "Hey," and a small wave, but did a double-take. He sat up, Stripe clinging to the fabric of his shirt. "Clyde, what the HELL is on your face!?" His eyes were wide in disbelief and terror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde gulped, averting his eyes "Uh, hey dude. Taken your hat off recently?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"First of all, I haven't taken this thing off in weeks, and secondly, answer the question! What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> that!?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dude, I have no idea," Clyde admitted, breathing a defeated sigh as he sat on the edge of Craig's bed. "I don't remember a damn thing from last night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cause you were blackout drunk, man! It's your own fault." Craig scolded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, you were drunk too!" Clyde retorted defensively, whipping his head around to look at the man that was seated behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You were drunker." He stated confidently. Clyde knew it was true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatever!" Clyde huffed his cheeks indignantly, looking back down, eyes fixed on the wooden tile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really though, Clyde. Why in God's name would you get </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> tattooed on your </span>
  <em>
    <span>forehead</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Of all the places, why there?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like I said, I was drunk! And you don't get to make fun of me until </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>see </span>
  <em>
    <span>yours</span>
  </em>
  <span>!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't get one." He replied. Craig had a way of stating something so unabashedly emotionlessly that simultaneously entertained Clyde, and pissed him off. Clyde was at a loss for words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realizing Clyde wasn't going to speak any time soon, Craig elaborated, "Sorry. I reconsidered."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde drew in an angry breath. "I get your fucking name tattooed on my forehead and you pussy out on me!?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry for putting some thought into my future!" Craig was starting to get annoyed at his supposed best friend's unacceptance of his, in his own opinion, pretty reasonable choice. This showed in his tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde, not being able to formulate a proper response, resorted to giving out a cry of anger, and in the heat of the moment, snatched up Craig's hat and began plucking at the seams. He was playing dirty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig frantically tried to calm the brunette down before any permanent damage was done. After Craig firmly grabbed his wrists, Clyde looked back at him to yell a string of profanities, but the words were lost in his throat. His mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Craig... Your... Your forehead..." he managed to choke out, gaping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about my damned forehead, Clyde!?" Craig huffed, beyond annoyed with Clyde's childish bluffing. He was not falling for it, not this time! He angrily snatched his hat back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really, your forehead!" Clyde cried. He fumbled through his pocket and pulled out his trusty pocket mirror. (He was known to care quite a bit about his physical appearance.) He thrust the mirror close to Craig's face. His forehead donned a mirror image of Clyde's, quite frankly, embarrassing tattoo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's-" his throat went dry. "That's-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Impossible..." Clyde finished Craig's thought, tracing his fingertips along the outline of the letters. "Even down to the slightest smudge, they're the exact same..." He stared, almost hypnotized in astonishment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Clyde, dude!" Craig snapped, shoving his touchy-feely friend off of him. "What the FUCK are we gonna do? What does this even </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean!?</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde didn't immediately respond, his mind bouncing around and trying to form a cohesive thought. "Craig..." he croaked. "We're soulmates."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How would he explain </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> to his dad?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Craig reflects on his relationship with Clyde, and starts to doubt how mutual his feelings are.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The word rang out in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Soulmates. Soulmates. Soulmates.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig had never been one to connect with others, and he was fine with that. He'd grown to welcome isolation to the point that emotional vulnerability felt unnatural to him; he was okay with being lonely. Realism, he liked to consider it. But with Clyde... why did it all feel so right? Clyde knew everything about him. He was the only person to crack Craig's tough exterior, and after a while, he even started to crave emotional intimacy. So while it may feel weird at first, was it so bad to be his soulmate? Would spending the rest of his life with Clyde, really be so laborious? The only problem was that Clyde </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn't feel the same way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Craig felt his mouth go dry. His arms grew heavy, and his palms sweaty. His skull pounded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde had a perfect life. He had the perfect girlfriend. Perfect clothes. Perfect hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe not-so-perfect grades,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Craig internally laughed. Still though, how important was that when you were the "It" boy of your entire school? A football player, the heartthrob of the Sophomore class... There was no way in hell Clyde wasn't straight. Once again, he had a girlfriend that he raved about day and night! Craig had to accept it. He had no chance with him, soulmates or not. They would get laser tattoo removal and move on with their lives. Clyde would probably never speak to him again, but that was better than the inevitable awkwardness they would face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Craig?" Clyde's concerned voice snapped him out of his internal ramblings. Craig gave no response- he didn't have the strength. His knees shook uncontrollably. He tried his best to hold back the tears threatening to spill, to no avail. The molten streams ran down his cheeks, and he wasn't sure when, but he soon found himself wrapped up in Clyde's firm, bear-like embrace. "Craig, tell me what's wrong!" He insisted worriedly, as if he had no clue. Craig internally snarled- what an idiot! Was he really that dense, or did he just choose to ignore the elephant in the room? Did he have nothing to say about the most lifechanging discovery he'd ever make? Did he think it would go away if he just ignored it? Was Craig so insignificant, he didn't even deserve any form of acknowledgment!?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Get out of my house." He mumbled bitterly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clyde was taken aback by this, letting his grip falter. "W-What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, CLYDE!" Craig snapped, shoving the stronger man off of him. Clyde stumbled back, gaping at him like a deer caught in the headlights, not sure what to do. This pissed Craig off even more. "You heard me, Clyde! Get the hell out!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, Clyde scrambled out of the bedroom. Craig thought he could see his honey-toned eyes glaze over for a moment, but that might have just been in his head. He felt the familiar swell of worry pool in his stomach, but Craig curtly swallowed his regrets. <em>He did the right thing, right?</em> Stroking the forgotten guinea pig's fur, he managed to choke out, "Guess it's just you and me now, Stripe."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this chapter is so short!!! I've already started working on the next one, so expect that in the next few days</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is my first fic ever, please go easy on me in the comments!! :)<br/>Sorry its so short!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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